


the stars are the same

by Duck_Life



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Bishop is Gay and Autistic, Character Study, First Kiss, Fish out of Water, M/M, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 09:31:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17506055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duck_Life/pseuds/Duck_Life
Summary: Bishop slowly finds a place with the X-Men and learns to live in the moment.





	the stars are the same

“Wow,” Randall says, clapping Bishop on the shoulder. “You oughtta lose the sourface more often, Bish. That smile o’ yours is more dazzling than Alison Blaire.” He bobs his head and then jogs off to join the XSE drill, leaving Bishop somewhat stunned. 

He looks up to see Shard smirking at him. “Shut up.”

“I didn't say anything!” she says, holding her hands up in a show of innocence. 

 

* * *

  
  


Lucas is watching from a distance when Forge walks out on Ororo. He can't hear them or read their lips from across the courtyard, but what he sees is enough to formulate a pretty decent picture. Forge didn't believe Ororo could ever put him before the X-Men. He's probably right. Bishop doesn't see why that's a problem. 

Forge thinks Ororo has a commitment problem, but she's an absolute paragon of commitment when it comes to her team. And Forge wanted to, what? Take her away from the thing she did better than anybody aside from  _ maybe  _ Cyclops?

Bishop doesn't understand it.

 

* * *

 

If Forge is a mystery, Mystique is an enigma. She taunts him and mocks him, and when Bishop tries to fire back with what little information he has on her— the loss of her teammate, Destiny— she looks like she's been slapped. 

There's something there… something, and Bishop worries he's misjudged, that Destiny was far more than a teammate to Mystique. 

When she sneers and morphs into a facsimile of Randall, and his breath catches in his chest, he knows for sure. 

 

* * *

 

“Hey Bishop,” Jubilation says, striding by carrying a plate heaped with Totinos Pizza Rolls, “so are you and Storm dating or what?”

Are they? He wouldn't even know. Before coming to this time, Bishop's whole life was fighting to survive, and working for the XSE. Dating and relationships— they were things that came easily to people like Malcolm, people like Shard (not that she had stellar taste, but, well.) The social condition is as much a mystery to him as the cuisine of this foreign time. Is he dating Storm? He respects her opinion more than anyone else, trusts her to have his back and guide him on missions. Is that the same? “I'm… not sure,” he tells Jubilation honestly. And he swipes a Totino from her.

He burns his tongue on it. 

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey, Rogue,” Bobby asks as they cross the lawn toward the X-Mansion. “What's Shard?”

“Huh?” Rogue says. 

“Back there, after Bishop grabbed you and you, y’know, got all his memories and crap, you yelled something about a ‘shard.’ What's that about?”

Bishop's a couple steps behind the two of them on the lawn. He takes a deep breath, prepares to hear Rogue tell Bobby everything. It was a stupid move grabbing her, and now he's paying for it. 

“Oh,” Rogue says. “Some kinda futurey weapon, Ah think. Only got flashes, really.”

“Wild,” Bobby says. “Right, well I gotta make a phone call, see if I can make things right with Opal.”

“Good luck,” Rogue calls after him as he vanishes into the house. She sounds skeptical. “Well, Ah'm starvin’,” she says, turning to Bishop. “Wanna hunt down Cyke's credit card and order a pizza?”

“Why did you lie to Robert?” he asks. 

Rogue shrugs, combing her white bangs out of her face. “Ah figured, your family is your business,” she says, and she pats him on the shoulder with one gloved hand. “But hey, if you ever do wanna talk about Shard… or any of it? Bobby's a good listener.”

He nods, still trying to wrap his head around the concepts of privacy, trust and confidentiality, especially applied to him, an outsider to this team and this century. 

“Thank you,” he says finally. 

She shrugs again, looking mildly uncomfortable at his intensity, but when she meets his eyes she's grinning. “Yeah, well. Like I said. Anyway, how's about that pizza?”

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


“You can pull the time travel excuse wit just about ev'ryone else but not me, mon ami,” Lebeau tells him, waggling his eyebrows over the top of his beer bottle. “My guess is… you were as much of an odd one out in your own time as you are here.”

Lucas scowls. Witness or not, Lebeau has a habit of noticing every tic and fault in a person and using it to pick at them. He's observant. It's infuriating. “I assure you I can handle my responsibilities as an X-Man—”

“Oh, pshaw,” Lebeau sighs, sloshing a little of his beer on the floor. “Live a little, mon frer. Drink someting that isn't a damn Dr. Pepper. Find yourself a nice gal, or, uh, whatever, you know?” He pats Bishop on the shoulder. “The world doesn't end if you take a night off.”

 

* * *

 

For two guys who start out hating each other, Bishop and Lebeau wind up unlikely allies and friends more often than not, to the point where Lucas can't keep pretending it's just because they're teammates. Something is there, something new and exciting and as electrifying as the Cajun's biokinetic energy projectiles. But in between the Soap Opera of Rogue and Gambit and Bishop's own hangups about intimacy and interaction, they don't get a chance to explore any of that energy for a long time.

The stars finally align while they're working a case in South Carolina, following up on some anti-mutant hate crimes at a high school, making sure the situation had cooled down and the young mutants had a contact at Xavier's and a decent support system. 

That evening, Lebeau suggests a Lowcountry restaurant and they eat shrimp and potatoes. Remy puts back three Blue Moons and plays footsie with him under the table, kisses him in the rental car. 

It's not what he was expecting, not too fast or too much. He's not Remy the wild card right now. He's the jack of hearts, sweet and slow and smiling at him before he goes in for a second kiss. 

“I'm sorry I ever doubted your intentions,” Bishop says. “With the X-Men and with—”

“Just shut up and kiss me, time cop,” Remy says warmly, leaning across the center console. His lips taste like beer and Old Bay. 


End file.
